What is the main content of the crossword puzzle written by Sanmao?

Main content: Sanmao thought of "Jenny" when he was ill, and he wanted to get comfort from "Jenny".

Original text:

puzzle

Author: San Mao

At dusk, the fog is very heavy, very heavy.

Outside the window, there is a broken kite hanging on the telephone pole. When the breeze blows, it swings around. In the blurred fog, a kite swings quietly from side to side. It was dark, and the street lamps began to glow, too thick to turn yellow light. Fog, they fall heavily, the lights are hazy in the fog ... it's dark. I curled up in the corner of the bed. It's dark. It's dark. I dare not turn on the light. I want to hide in the dark. Yes, I'm running away. What am I running from? The wind blew in, bringing a chill. That song, that ethereal song, sounded over and over again. "Where I come from, no one knows ... where I go, everyone will go ... the wind is blowing ... the sea is flowing ..." I waved my hand to drive this song away, but it floated into my room again and again. They filled me up. I was scared, very scared. I jumped up and ran to my mother's room. I grabbed my mother like crazy, "mom! Tell me, tell me, I'm not Jenny, I'm not Jenny ... I'm not her ... Really, really ... "

It's been days, days, and I'm lost in this illusion.

I haven't remembered clearly the movie "The Portrait of Jenny" I saw when I was a child. Chatting with some friends occasionally, I just think it's a good movie. The story is beautiful, sad and atmospheric.

About a year ago, my cousin called me and said that he heard that Jenny's portrait was going to be re-carved. I said, it was a good movie, but I don't remember anything. He casually hummed the little song that Jenny often sang on the phone-"Where I come from, no one knows, where I am going ... Everyone is going, the wind is blowing, the sea is flowing, where am I going ..." Holding the microphone, I cried like I was possessed. "No, not because of the movie. It seems that for a long time, I didn't know what world I was in before ... My memory is so closed, brother! I didn't lie to you, in another world, those winds! Sea! Those ethereal and gloomy songs ... Don't make me ask, brother, I can't say it, just that song, that song ... "

That night, I was ill. I had a high fever during my illness. Jenny's songs flooded in. They permeate the whole body, and I am strongly enveloped by an unspeakable feeling. This is it! This is it! The world I pursue is the root of my homesickness.

After recovering from the illness, I had a good rest. The doctor tried to put me to sleep, giving me no time to think and no stimulation. Slowly, on the surface, I calmed down. One day, it occurred to me that I wanted to run out and sketch without my mother's consent. My mother chased out when she heard the noise. She grabbed my clothes and said imploringly, "Sister, you are not well yet. Don't go out and blow, be obedient! Go in! Come on, listen ... "Suddenly, somehow, I was in tears. I banged on the door and shouted like crazy, "Leave me alone, let me go ... let me die ... I hate you ..." I was so bored that I was about to explode. I'm bored, I'm bored ... Holding the book box, I ran out of the house like a gust of wind.

Sit on the ridge and put away the easel. Looking around, I can't see anything except a large paddy field and distant mountains. The wind is blowing harder and harder, and I feel very cold. It's no use turning up the collar of my jacket. I began to regret my willfulness and trouble. Facing the blank canvas, I can't draw anything, just sit and listen to the wind around me. I don't know when it started, but I feel that the wind is getting weaker and weaker, but there is a silence of desire between them. Slowly, there seems to be a kind of music in the distance instead of the wind, and the sound approaches with the ups and downs of the wheat waves ... Finally, they surrounded me, and they sang in my ear, "Where I came from, no one knows, where I went, everyone has to go ..."

I jumped up and stood in a daze, and the extreme panic made me almost numb; Then I knocked over the bookshelf and couldn't run in the field. Oh, here comes Jenny! Jenny is here. I ran and ran into a closed world. It was dark all around. Nothing but Jenny's gloomy, sad and unwelcome voice. There's nothing. I have nothing. I open my arms and scratch the sky. I ran forward. It's dark all around, I'm looking for something I can't lose, I'm looking for … it's dark, and nothing exists except Jenny, Jenny … I'm running endlessly … that night, a farmer sent me home, and he found me in a ditch in the field. My family is worried about my return. My mother cried when she saw me. She hugged me and said, "Son, how did you become like this!" " "I looked at her silently, oh! Mom, I'm just looking, looking ... I've been sick for a week in a daze, clamoring to get up. The doctor, parents and mother joined forces and made a contract with me. I am only allowed to draw still life, read books and listen to records in the room, and I am not allowed to run around. They told me that I was ill. Don't think too much, watch too much, be willful, be angry, cry for no reason, this, that and too much ... I've been bored at home for almost a month, and I've only been out once. My mother took me to National Taiwan University Hospital that day. She said there was a good doctor who could cure me. We walked and walked, and when we reached the door of the psychiatric department, I stopped in surprise. So ... me? ..... My mother quit, leaving only the doctor and me. He tried to ask me like a friend, "You-paint? I nodded, just disgusted with this compassionate doctor-Jenny's relationship with me is not a disease-and he smiled like an expert and asked me, "Did you draw that ...? "What is this called ... I don't understand ... Impressionism?" I can't stand it any longer. I stood up impatiently and said to him, "Impressionism is a faction of19th century and has nothing to do with the present abstraction. If you don't understand this, don't treat me. Besides, I'm not dead yet Don't look at me like that. " Jenny's relationship with me is not sick, not sick, I understand, I do understand, I'm just exhausted, I'm not sick.

Jenny still always comes to me, in the dead of night, in the rainy night, in the dim dawn, in the gloomy noon ... she comes at once, with her singing and her unique breath. Time and time again, I fell into that empty world, breathing, running, looking … looking … running … when I woke up, I was sweating and exhausted. I am also immersed in Jenny's singing. I feel frantic, and I feel the pain of being disappeared. Nevertheless, from that moment on, I felt an unforgettable happiness and an extremely contradictory sadness.

I don't know since when, I have been addicted to that world. Although I am afraid and contradictory, I can't say my attachment to that kind of pleasure. Day and night, I run away, I look for it, I know I have merged with Jenny, I know, I do know. "Jenny! Jenny! " I shouted softly, and we became one.

As usual, Tuesday and Friday are my injection days. In the evening, I took acupuncture, took care of my family, and went to the doctor who took care of me since I was a child-Uncle Zhang. Uncle Zhang looked at me with concern. He said, "Sister, you have lost weight again!" "I panicked, as if the crime was revealed-what did I do wrong? I looked down and said, "Uncle Zhang, I can't sleep. You know, I often can't sleep. Sleeping pills are useless. He raised my chin and said softly but surely, "You are unhappy. Why? "

"I am not happy? Is it? Uncle Zhang, you are mistaken. I'm happy, I'm happy … really … I'm not happy. This is a joke. Jenny came, you know, Jenny came, I am satisfied, I am satisfied ... although I have been running there! Run! But am I satisfied ... in fact ... miserable? A little ... isn't that great? I-Oh! God, don't look at me like that! Uncle Zhang, I'm really not sick. I'm fine ... fine ... "

I found myself talking hysterically and in tears. I can't help myself. I can't stop talking. Uncle Zhang silently took my hand and sent me home. On the way, he said as if hypnotized: "Sister, you are sick, you are sick, there is no Jenny, there is no Jenny, you have to be quiet, quiet, ... you are sick ..."

Injections, medication, psychotherapy, sedatives, and too much love are useless. Jenny is still alive in me. I feel that Jenny not only owns me, but is about to take its place. One day, I will disappear without a trace. I am no longer alive, I no longer exist, I will disappear. ...

Time and time again, I struggled to say, Jenny! Let's break up! Let's break up! She didn't answer me, but sang to me in her ethereal voice: "Where I come from, no one knows. Wherever I go, everyone will go. Where the wind blows the current, I will go ... everyone will go ..."

Alas! Jenny. I'm coming. I'm coming for you. So Jenny pounced on me like a gust of wind, and I was once again sucked into her world without resistance, that sad and empty world. I started running around again ... looking for ... the satisfaction of being obsessed with decadence and abuse.

"Where I come from, no one knows ... where I go ... everyone wants to go ... where the wind blows and the sea flows ... where I go, everyone wants to go ..." Jenny. Jenny. I'm coming. I'm coming. Only you ...